As my friend has already investigated, Melville does not really sound like Melville until the, ahem, quite crazy Mardi. Now, when I started out with Typee and continued through Omoo, I was ready to object—hey, this is (a) super good and (b) really funny. And having just read The Piazza Tales, I could certainly see a line from those to that. Then I started Mardi and the full memory of Moby-Dick‘s weirdness came back.
The style may not have been fully there at the beginning, but somewhat surprisingly the structure was (this reminds me of Nero Wolfe’s claim that authors are highly identifiable by their paragraphing, spurious I’m sure). I refer specifically to millions of tiny chapters, peppered with episodes, anecdotes, and isolated observations. Typee‘s are actually on the long side, averaging about 7.4 pages in my edition; Omoo knocks that down to 3.9. And by “millions” I mean “dozens,” but still.
The chapters are episodic, and have plenty of anecdotes and digressions exactly along the lines of (the stuff that annoys people in) Moby-Dick. Typee, in addition to the travel narrative, brings us a “characteristic anecdote of the queen of Nukuheva,” a “digression concerning Tahiti,” a lesson in Marquesan fire-starting, breadfruit recipes, and a “battle of the pop-guns,” among others. But this all makes sense, mostly, in the context of a travel book, though it certainly breaks up the flow of the main “plot.” Quite late in the book the narrator warns:
Sadly discursive as I have already been, I must still further entreat the reader’s patience, as I am about to string together, without any attempt at order, a few odds and ends of things not hitherto mentioned, but which are either curious in themselves or peculiar to the Typees.
Discursive, for sure, but let’s not take these for pointless odds and ends; this chapter snaps us out of Tommo’s now quiet and peaceful long-term stay in Typee, just in time for him to head back out of the valley.
Omoo is similarly episodic, though not as effectively structured. But maybe that’s a lie. Everyplace the narrator goes in Omoo he lingers like the South Seas rover that he is. And though the chapters are short and sweet they too linger in each place longer than they should. How many more chapters stuck on this ship? Hey, Melville wants to disembark too. How about in this Tahitian calabooza? The narrator’s just as restless as you are. How many more in this poor Imeeose’s hut? Well, he’s trying to get off the island, but you’ll just have to wait it out along with him. Perhaps not so pleasant to read, but it does fit the story, and the digressions and anecdotes break up the beachcomber’s languid lifestyle.
I’ve had Melville on my mind lately – had been wondering if I was up for reading Moby Dick for the third time – and saw your post. Sounds like I should go for some of the less well known stuff – thanks!
I had taken the structure for granted, but now I see how important it was. First, does he ever abandon it? 135 chapters in Moby Dick, sure, but also 45 in The Confidence-Man, and 30 in Billy Budd, not even three pages per chapter. Now I’m curious what Clarel looks like, or Israel Potter.
Second, it fits his method so perfectly. Story, digression, story, digression.
Colleen—I’m really looking forward to reaching Moby-Dick again myself, but I’m enjoying the journey there.
AR—Yep, exactly. I don’t think he ever abandons it; Redburn is 62 chapters averaging less than 7 pages in my edition. I don’t have my hands on them, but Amazon reveals that Pierre, Clarel and Israel Potter all follow the same pattern. You do lose it in the short works, though, and I think it shows. You can tell the difference reading something like Bartleby or Benito Cereno or even “The Piazza.” Of course, he also does it in “The Encantadas.”
In any event I really like it. And I think it’s just perfect for him.